


My First Day: A Gratuitous Self-Insertion Fic

by Mara



Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Gen, Humor, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-01
Updated: 2009-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:45:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mara/pseuds/Mara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm still working on the aliens thing. Can I get back to you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	My First Day: A Gratuitous Self-Insertion Fic

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Medie's fault, for pointing me to the Self-Insertion Fic Challenge. ::points:: Blame her, not me.

"Aliens?"

Dr. Jackson, or Daniel as he'd told me to call him, nodded patiently. "Yes, aliens."

"Aliens?" I hated the way my voice squeaked on the word, but it certainly wasn't voluntary.

His eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched slightly, but he repeated himself. "Aliens. What were you expecting?"

I leaned back in the creaky office chair and stared at him. "Not aliens, I can assure you. I suppose I figured that since the Air Force has archaeological sites on various bases in the Middle East, and I know the military is covered by historic preservation regulations, and...I'm babbling."

That got a friendly grin. "That's okay. I've been here a while and I babble now and then."

I was having trouble breathing, but I couldn't tell if that was due to the idea of alien artifacts or this man's grin. Probably not a good idea to tell your new boss that you took the job as his assistant in order to gaze longingly into his blue eyes, hmm?

Okay, that wasn't really true. In fact, I took this job because there are very few paying jobs available to archaeologists, even those who received their training and PhD from the renowned Oriental Institute at the University of Chicago.

So, when I was recruited by an adorable archaeologist--even one whose name I vaguely recalled had been associated with some weirdness--the decision didn't take me too long. After all, student loans wait for no woman's scruples, and my momma may've raised a mean child, but she didn't raise a stupid one.

"Mara?" His voice broke into my musings and I looked up at him.

"I'm still working on the aliens thing. Can I get back to you?" I grinned back at him to let him know I was joking, then took a deep breath. "Well, aliens. Right. Okay. I'm good with this. Let's move on to my job responsibilities."

He quirked his eyebrows at me again, but apparently decided to take my statement at face value. "The problem is that during all this exploration, I've amassed a huge number of artifacts. Those that appeared to be weaponry have been removed to...another facility," he paused, and seemed to be amused by something, "but that still leaves quite a few objects."

"Where did they all come from?" When he frowned, I shook my head to jog my brains back into place and revised my question. "I didn't mean physically, I meant how did you acquire them?"

"They're not stolen, if that's what you mean."

I chuckled and looked down at the table in front of me, face slightly warm with embarrassment. "I suppose I did."

"Some were given to my team as gifts, some come from sanctioned excavations, others are from digs on uninhabited worlds. I know there's a great deal of information that could be useful to us, or at least interesting, but I simply don't have the time to catalog. Up until now, I've been able to remember where to find what we need, but eventually there will be so many, that won't be possible. We need a computer catalog, and I could also use some help in mapping sites, occasionally in writing reports."

"What kind of technical resources will I have?" I looked back up and leaned forward, eager now that I was in familiar territory.

He laughed. "I guarantee it'll be better than any dig you've worked on. We've got state-of-the-art computers, a database designed specifically for this project, the latest versions of whatever graphics software you need, a full set-up for scanning and photographing artifacts, and technical support that speaks English."

I was definitely ready to deal with the idea of aliens if it meant I got to play with great toys. "Cool!"

We spent another half an hour discussing my job, and Daniel gave me a thick stack of mission reports to read.

"These will help get you up to speed on the cultures we've encountered. I'll show you where to find the rest of them, so if you need to consult them about a specific artifact, you can."

I clutched the reports to my chest. "Oh goody. Homework."

He nodded. "Enough homework to keep you busy for quite a while. Let me give you a quick tour of the facility." And he led me out of the ground floor office toward the elevators, nodding at several passing soldiers. I smiled politely at everyone, all the while thinking it was going to take me some time to get used to the sheer mass of weaponry.

(Muscles, I was used to, as most archaeologists have pretty good muscle tone, but except for the time there was a terrorist threat against our dig in Egypt, I hadn't spent much time around weaponry.)

Although I'd known intellectually that the first-floor offices carved into the mountain were not the whole of the Cheyenne Mountain facility, it still startled me when we got onto the elevator and I looked at all those buttons representing sublevels.

Hoping to calm my momentary claustrophobia, I took some surreptitious deep breaths. It didn't do much good, as the elevator walls closed in and the light seemed to dim.

Daniel studied the door panels. "It takes some time to get used to being so far underground," he said casually, "but eventually you stop noticing it, especially if you keep busy."

"Is that so?" I tried to match his casual tone, but I don't think I did a very good job. Daniel kindly continued to look elsewhere, and I closed my eyes for a few seconds of meditation. When I opened them, I felt calmer, and it was just in time, as the elevator had apparently arrived.

I practically leaped out of the elevator, nearly running down some guy trying to get on.

"Whoa," he said, grabbing my shoulders to keep us both from toppling over.

"Uh, sorry. I just...I...never mind." My face felt as it were going to burst into flames at any moment. Thankfully, Daniel stepped in at that moment.

"Jack, I'd like you to meet my new assistant, Mara. Col. Jack O'Neill, Dr. Mara S. Greengrass. Mara, Jack is the leader of my team, SG-1."

I stepped back and tried to smile politely, but wasn't sure how well it would work with all the blushing. From the odd look on the colonel's face, my smile was probably pretty strained. Great, I'd nearly run down my new boss' boss.

"Please call me Mara," I said, pulling myself together. "I don't think of myself as Doctor, and the middle initial is only on my resume to look more official." I shuddered slightly. "I certainly never use my middle name."

"Nice to meet you, Mara." His handshake was firm without being crushing. "Just out of curiosity, and for future blackmail purposes, what *is* your middle name?"

"Sorry, but it's not *that* good. It's Sue."

"Mara Sue?" Jack asked. "Yeah, I can see why you avoid it. It does sound..."

"See you around, Jack," Daniel said, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the hallway.

Jack was grinning broadly when I half-turned and waved good-bye. Wow, another cutie, I told myself. If you looked under "ruggedly handsome" in the dictionary, no doubt his picture would be there. I began to think that maybe this job would be fun.

"C'mon, let's go see General Hammond. I know he wants to meet you."

"Are there any aliens wandering around I should know about? Any little green men?" I trailed down the hallway behind him.

"Well, the Asgard are little gray men, but they usually just snatch Jack when they want to have a chat..."

All the way to the general's office, Daniel regaled me with descriptions of aliens he had met: the blended Tok'ra, the phased Retu, the creepy Replicators. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was trying to scare me off, but I suspect he just didn't get to lecture very often without being cut off. Surrounded by non-social scientists, what a horrible fate.

Daniel led me into General Hammond's office, and I was faced with my first general, unsure about the protocol for non-military. Something about the man--his bearing, gravitas, something--made me want to salute him, but I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to do that. Damn it, why didn't I learn anything *useful* in graduate school?

I think the general sensed my confusion, as he seemed amused when he stepped forward to shake my hand. Was everyone in this place going to laugh at me?

"General Hammond," I said, managing a grave nod.

"Dr. Greengrass," he said, nodding back, "it's good to have you aboard. Dr. Jackson could use the help. I've been trying to tell him that for some time now."

"Yes, well," Daniel scratched the back of his neck, "it's difficult to deal with hiring staff while off-world."

"We could have started the process for you, you know."

It was obviously an old argument, one that both sides enjoyed, and they sparred back and forth for a few moments about Daniel overworking, giving me some time to observe both of them.

I laughed along with the general as Daniel conceded defeat.

"You're absolutely right, sir." He bowed slightly at the waist.

"Of course I am, son, that's why they made me a general. Doctor, it's very nice to meet you, and welcome to the SGC."

"Thank you, sir. I'm glad to be here."

And it was true, I realized as we left the general's office. Sure, my morning had started out with a bit of a surprise--well, aliens was more than a *bit* of a surprise--but I really was happy to be here. I had an unparalleled experience to learn about new cultures, play with great electronic toys, and work with interesting people.

"Let me show you a few other important places and then I'll take you to the lab. I'm afraid it's a bit of a mess with just me to keep things organized." It was only a pro forma apology, as both he and I knew that, by nature, archaeology labs were a bit of a disaster.

I glanced sideways at him as we walked down another corridor. "Are you telling me you've never had a research assistant?"

"I had an assistant for a while named Nyan, but in the end he wasn't happy on Earth, so he ended up being resettled on a different planet."

I couldn't really come with an articulate response to such a casual use of the words 'different planet' so I settled for "Ah."

Continuing with the tour, I met the medical doctor (who seemed friendly), the requisitions clerk (who did not), and dozens of soldiers, each more buff than the last. I could see I was going to have to start lifting weights again if this job wasn't going to give me an inferiority complex.

Speaking of inferiority complexes, we rounded another corner, and Daniel saw a shapely blonde woman about to turn the far corner ahead of us. He called out to her. "Hey, Sam!"

She immediately reversed direction. "Hi, Daniel. What's up?"

I squinted at her collar, trying to remember the rankings I'd studied briefly that morning before coming to the facility. Captain? Major?

"Sam, I'd like you to meet Mara Greengrass, the lab assistant I finally hired. Mara, this is Major Samantha Carter, another member of SG-1."

She bounded forward to shake my hand and I couldn't help but smile in response to her enthusiasm. "It's very nice to meet you, Major Carter."

"Please call me Sam. If you're working with Daniel, I'm sure we'll be seeing quite a bit of each other."

"Then call me Mara. I haven't had the PhD all that long, and being addressed as Doctor always makes me feel snooty."

"Well, get used to titles, since the military's full of them."

"I know," I groaned. "I'll never keep everyone straight."

"Let me know if you need any help. I know it can be overwhelming at first. Daniel, make sure she knows how to find my lab."

"Absolutely," Daniel said, and the three of us continued down the hall, Sam turning to the right as Daniel and I went to the left.

She waved goodbye and I gave Sam an admiral's salute (two fingers waved vaguely around the forehead), which made her laugh.

Finally, we were on our way to the lab that was going to be my primary workspace, and coming down an empty hallway, we both picked up a little speed. It's something about scientists, when we're eager to get to work, we tend to become a little oblivious to the outside world.

Daniel was describing some ceramics he'd excavated the year before, and we weren't really looking where we were going, when I turned a corner and promptly ran into what felt like a brick wall.

My head was ringing as I stepped back, but through the chimes I heard Daniel talking to the brick wall, or rather, to the person I'd run into. "Hi, Teal'c."

"Hello, DanielJackson," a deep voice said. Inane to the last, my brain informed me that a chest that impressive would *have* to create a deep voice.

I blinked a few times, staring at the extremely manly and muscular black-clad chest in front of me and looked up. And up. And up. Finally, I was looking at the man Daniel had called Teal'c.

"Teal'c, I'd like you to meet the new assistant I was telling you about. Teal'c, this is Mara Greengrass."

"I am pleased to meet you, MaraGreengrass," he said, inclining his head slightly in my direction. He didn't look all that pleased, though, between the scowling and the elevated eyebrow.

"Um, nice to meet you, too," I said, trying to sound cool and collected. "And sorry about running into you."

"That is all right." And he bowed his head again, and continued around the corner.

"Teal'c is the fourth member of SG-1," Daniel said.

I was wondering if I'd really hurt myself running into him. "Uh, his forehead...?"

"Do you remember my mentioning the Jaffa?"

Not wanting to look totally stupid, I nodded. Hey, I could always swot up on this stuff later, right?

"Well, Teal'c used to work for one of the Goa'uld, Apophis, until he decided to join us instead. It's a long story, and you can read about that later."

"Oh, okay." Right. I mentally shrugged and followed him down another oh-so-military gray concrete corridor. Ugh, if the entire place looked like this, it was going to be a problem for..."Whoa!" My brain, always a little slow on the uptake caught up with me.

"Is everything okay?" As he turned to look at me, Daniel's voice was filled with concern, and I was momentarily derailed by the desire to melt into a small pile of goo. But I held firm...so to speak.

"He's a Jaffa?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't that mean he's got one of those...things inside him? You did say that, right? I just met my first alien?"

"Yes, he has a symbiote inside him, but he's not blended with it. So, technically, you met the receptacle for your first alien."

I scowled at him. He was laughing at me, the bastard, and I was tempted to throw the mission files I was still clutching at his head. Instead, I took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm obviously not dealing with the aliens thing as well as I thought."

"That's okay," he assured me. "Let's get to the artifacts."

"Please." I restrained the whine in my voice with great effort.

The lab was perfect. It was just what an archaeology lab should be, crowded and a little dirty, with papers and reference books and tantalizing bits of ceramic and metal and glass peeking out from beneath the clutter. Daniel and I both sighed in happiness as we stepped through the door, then looked at each other in amusement.

It was something non-scientists never understood, the relief at being in the lab or field (whichever you preferred), the lure of artifacts, the rush when you figured out what something was, the comfort of scientific routine. But Daniel and I understood each other completely, as we rummaged through cabinets and pored over volumes.

We were hovering over a pile of tablets in Goa'uld, debating the best way for a non-linguist to catalog them, when a knock on the door interrupted us. My head shot up so fast, I nearly smacked into Daniel.

"Danny boy, just wondering if you and your girl wonder here would like some dinner." Jack grinned at us from the doorway.

"Dinner?" Daniel and I asked, looking at each other in surprise.

Jack crossed his arms, and sighed theatrically. "Can I take it you didn't eat lunch?" Before we could respond, he held up a finger. "Ah ah, don't even think about saying 'Lunch?' in that tone. Just put down whatever you're doing and come eat something."

"Okay, Jack, you win. Dinner it is."

Daniel waved at me to precede him, and I followed Jack down the hallway, his voice trailing back. "Hey, I couldn't let you miss the excitement that is meatloaf night, could I?"

I laughed and felt a warm glow. Yeah, this was gonna be a great job.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering, that's not really my middle name ::grin::. And while I *am* an archaeologist by training, and a total artifacts goober, in truth, my specialty is colonial America, and I don't have a PhD, just an MA from the American University in Washington, DC.


End file.
